


Did You Ever Care?

by Corpse_Slacker



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Wilbur Soot, Villain Tommyinnit (Video Blogging RPF), Villain Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29095509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corpse_Slacker/pseuds/Corpse_Slacker
Summary: Techno had never been emotionally competent, but he can’t help but notice the little things. How familiar his little brother’s “new” mannerisms were; the theatrics, the urge to please others, the dead look in his eyes...He hates the glassy, broken look his brother’s grey eyes held in those moments. He wants to find the one responsible and tear them to shreds.The voices agree.Tommy comes to the realization that the changes he is experiencing goes far beyond the effects of his exile, and finds comfort in unexpected places.Phil remains oblivious, and Wilbur is here to remind the man of his mistakes. Only after a certain masked man gets what he deserves, of course.
Relationships: Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 5
Kudos: 227





	Did You Ever Care?

_ “Our nation’s far behind us, Tommy! We’re  _ **_fucked_ ** _ ; we were fucked the minute they threw us out!” _

__ _ In this cold, dark ravine Tommy had deemed “Pogtopia,” the brunet’s ramblings reverberated clearly. The ex-president paced the floor, all care for decency lost as he tossed his beanie between his hands. This man-- Tommy  _ **_refused_ ** _ to believe this monster was his brother-- continued to ramble as he closed the distance between them. _

__ _ “They don’t care about us-- and they never have! Tommy, they took everything from us, and we could do the same to them!” _

__ _ Wilbur threw his beanie to the damp, rocky ground before taking hold of Tommy’s shoulders. His grip was tight, but Tommy faintly realized that he wouldn’t have shaken Wilbur off if it were any looser. _

**_“We can kill them all, Tommy.”_ **

_ “What about Tubbo?” Tommy asked, blue eyes shining with determination as he met the gaze of cocoa-coloured orbs. _

__ _ “...  _ **_Tubbo?_ ** _ ” Wilbur challenged, and something dangerous flickered in his expression. Tommy braced himself-- preparing for the worst, when suddenly, Wilbur’s expression softened. _

__ _ “Tommy… I know how much you love Tubbo-- but, is he really on our side? Isn’t it a bit  _ **_fucking obvious_ ** _ that he’ll betray us any moment now?” _

__ _ “Wilbur, I--” _

__ _ “This is why you’re  _ **_weak_ ** _ , Tommy. You let your emotions guide you. But it’s okay; you’ll learn eventually, right? I’ll be here ‘till then.” _

__ _ Suddenly, the man before him changed. Now there was a man donning a green hoodie, a pristine white mask with a smile hiding his features. _

__ _ “They don’t care about you, Tommy,” resounded  _ **_his_ ** _ soft voice. “Tubbo exiled you, and  _ **_no one came. They left you to die._ ** _ ” _

__ **_… What?_ **

**** _ No, that wasn’t right; Tubbo was still Schlatt’s Secretary of State. Tubbo wasn’t the one in charge… What the hell was Dream getting at? _

__

_“L’Manburg is prospering without you, you know? But it won’t last much longer. There’s a strange poetic injustice in your exile, being kept from conducting the coda of_ ** _your_** _symphony. The symphony’s end conducted by a_ ** _fool_** _\--_ _a_ ** _pawn_** _\-- ending it all with nothing but discord. ” The masked man drawled, closing in on the teen with the confidence of a predator circling its prey._

__ _ Tommy took a step back, fear and confusion shining in unnaturally blue eyes as they kept their gaze on the taller man. _

__ _ “Sure beats the hellhole Logsted is, doesn’t it?” _

__ _ Logsted… _

__ _ Why does that sound  _ **_familiar?_ **

**** _ The name was enough to make Tommy shake, yet he doesn’t know why. All he knew is that he  _ **_can’t let Dream touch him_ ** _ and it’s  _ **_not safe._ **

**** _ But Tommy had nowhere to run. _

__ _ Dream clasped a gloved hand on Tommy’s shoulder, pinning him to the ravine’s wall. Tommy felt his nerves flare at the contact, the adrenaline that ran through his veins forcing every sense into painful clarity. However, this burst of energy brought the painful memories of recent months back into his mind. _

__ _ Tubbo’s execution. _

__ _ Wilbur’s death. _

__ _ George’s house catching fire. _

__

__ **_Exile._ **

__

__ _ Just as it was becoming too much-- the memories flashing before his eyes in rapid succession-- the voices came again. Tommy faintly realized they had always been there, a constant static left ignored as it faded into background noise (perhaps there was a time Tommy listened, Tommy can’t quite remember. Shouldn’t he be more alarmed?). Their volume increased, raising in alarm until small phrases could be heard within the chaos. _

__ **_How dare he?!_ **

**** **_THEYBETRAYEDUSTHEYBETRAYEDUS--_ **

**** **_I WANT TUBBO I WANT TUBBO WE NEED HIM BACK_ **

**** **_DREAM IS A FRIEND, WHY DID WE LEAVE--_ **

****

**** **_Techno was right. He always was._ **

**** _ A warm hand gently placed itself on Tommy’s shoulder, comforting despite the rough skin. Tommy turns around, and is greeted with familiar locks of pink hair and a pig mask. He thinks he should feel afraid, but within the cold of Pogtopia he can’t help but lean into the touch. _

__ _ He opens his mouth to make some snarky remark, but a sudden realization causes him to freeze. _

__ _ “ _ **_When the hell did I start hearing voices?”_ **

**** _ “... Tom--” _

__ _ They got louder and louder as everything went white, and Tommy didn’t know how much more he could take-- _

__ _ “--et up…!” _

__ Tommy awakens to a soft knocking on his door. Tommy  _ also _ has cold sweat coating his palms and forehead, but the guy outside his room doesn’t need to know that.

“Waddya want, bitch?!” Tommy growls out shakily, no real venom in his voice as he stretches.

“Get up; I’m not lettin’ you skip breakfast again,” replies the gruff voice beyond the door.

Tommy doesn’t grace the man with a response, opting to silently sit up in his bed. The teen attempts to silence his ragged breathing, recounting the breathing exercises Techno had taught him under the guise of combat training.

_ “Now, you know these breathing exercises have use outside of combat too, right? Steady breathin’ helps in any situation.” _

__ Thinking back on Techno’s words, Tommy times his breaths and patiently waits for his heartbeat to slow.

Taking his silence as an affirmative, Tommy hears Techno’s footsteps trail down the hall and up the ladder. He would never admit it, but Tommy appreciates the routine they’ve developed.

**** Tommy had finally taken Techno’s advice, making the small basement under the warm cabin feel less…  _ Pitiful. _

__ He finally installed a proper door, and replaced the dirt floor with makeshift planks of spruce. He’d also stored most of his belongings in an extra barrel Techno had laying around (not that it was much).

And if Techno knows Tommy stored extra supplies and more  _ personal _ belongings in the secret room Tommy carved out a week ago, he doesn’t say anything.

It’s odd, making a particularly temporary shelter feel more like  _ home _ than any house he’d kept since Manburg’s destruction. It’d been nearly a year since the event, and nothing has felt quite the same since.

The last time Tommy truly felt he had a home was… With  _ him… _

__ Tommy doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t want to think of soft yellow wool against bruised skin, and how it was suddenly replaced by the rough fabric of a soot-stained trenchcoat. He  _ definitely  _ doesn’t want to think about when the reassuring calm of his voice became the manic ramblings echoing throughout the darkness of a cavern.

Tommy’s gaze shifts to the wall behind which a familiar trenchcoat lays with various other belongings. He can feel the itch of his skin, calling out for the warmth of the bulky coat with the desperation of a man struggling for breath--  _ drowning, drowning with an arrow in the head, waking up to salty water in his lungs-- _

“ _ Not right now,” _ Tommy thinks through shaky breaths, clutching at his loose shirt.

He’s certain Technoblade didn’t give a shit  _ what  _ he wore as long as he didn’t freeze to death (sometimes Tommy wonders if he even cared  _ that _ much), but Tommy could never bring himself to wear it around others. Not around Tubbo, not around Techno, and  **certainly** not around the green bastard. It felt far too sacred, like when Wilbur-- the  _ real _ Wilbur-- would hold him and tell him everything was fine when he was a child. That Phil and and big brother Techno would be back soon,  _ they were just on a small trip. _

__ Those were moments reserved just for himself and Wilbur, shielded from the world and its shortcomings for a few precious minutes.

Tommy sighs, unceremoniously rolling out of bed with a loud  _ thump. _ The impact awoke his senses, and he finally finds the energy to stand. Stretching his gangly limbs, the veteran lazily shuffles to the small drawer that holds the few pieces of clothing he owned as he prepares for the day to come.

The familiar red-and-white shirt loosely worn against his pale skin, Tommy forces a grin as he runs a steady hand through his growing hair. It had been unmanageable in Logsted, constantly covering his eyes and darker in colour due to dirt and ash; now it was cleaner, bright locks of hair nearly reaching his shoulders. The boy had thought of cutting it, but constant training and preparations had pushed the thoughts away. 

_ “Probably looks a hell of a lot like Phil’s hair,” _ Tommy muses to himself as he ties it into a loose bun.

He finally opens the door, head held high as he gathers his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated, and I thrive off of tears. Thank you for your time. :)
> 
> FOLLOW ME HERE!:  
> Twitter: @Corpse19402481


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